Mother
by Phantasmagor1a
Summary: I don't know who I want to be.


I sleep on the couch, my head on his chest and his arm around me. He shifts slightly in his sleep and the small movement makes me open my eyes. I'm a light sleeper. I tilt my head up to look at him. His eyes are closed. I can see his pupils moving underneath them. He seems so young, so vulnerable. I smile, deciding to let him stay with his dreams. The morning air is cold. The construction workers downstairs are just getting started. In an hour or so the noise is going to become unbearable.

I decide to make the most of the time we have left before we're stuck in a heavy metal concert and snuggle closer to him. He wraps his arms around me tighter, hugging me like a bolster. I'm squished against his white t-shirt, but I don't mind. I see that my makeup has stained it and I tell myself that I should start taking it off before I go to sleep at night. My mother does, every fucking night. Still, I don't think I ever will.

I move slightly to find that my hair's been caught in my piercing again, but I'm too lazy to get it out. My mother's been telling me to remove that thing since forever. She made a surprise visit to our apartment once to find it in a mess; week old food in the fridge, and stains everywhere on the wall. We pick our nose and flick it everywhere and it's food for the cockroaches. She hates them. She asks me how I can stand living in such a place with him but I tell her I don't mind.

"Maybe it's time you stopped seeing the cockroaches and start seeing the fact that I really am happy," I tell her, as she is cleaning the inside of the sink.

"I will come here twice a week to clean this place for you," she tells me.

"Mother, I am fine. I am fine without you," I say, storming off into the next room. I take the keys and walk out of the house. When I am two blocks away, I remember that I haven't hidden the porn we kept on top of our TV. I don't care any more. When I come back, I find the DVDs neatly arranged, and a box of expensive lavender scented candles on our bed. I light one and sit down on the bed, thinking. I hear the door opening as he gets back from work.

"Smells nice," he says, coming towards me and kissing me on the top of my head. I look up at him.

"Makes me want you," he says, plonking himself down on the mattress beside me.

"My mother bought them," I tell him.

"That was nice of her," he says. I look away.

"Did she clean the house, too?" he asks. I nod.

"You should thank her. I'll bring the both of you out for a nice dinner," he says.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," I say, "she doesn't think I'm happy here, with you."

He laughs.

"All mothers think that," he says, standing up and going closer to the candle. He picks it up and tilts it, watching the wax flow to the edge.

"If you spill any of that on the floor I'm going to make you lick it clean," I say, standing up and getting his towel from the rack. He puts it down.

"You are so like you mom," he says.

"No I'm not!"

He smiles, shaking his head. I begin unbuttoning his shirt from the top, slinging it over my shoulder. He undoes his belt and takes off his pants and boxers. I wrap the towel around his waist, securing it, and slap his ass towards the bathroom. He steps in and I hear the shower being turned on. Of course it'd be turned on. I'd be turned on if I saw him naked. I'd be so turned on.

I touch myself a little, and then I stop because I've started thinking about my mother, feeling guilty about what I'd said towards her. I thought I'd drop her a text. I didn't want to be one of those kids who never loved their Mom enough until she got some sickness and died. Then it'd be too late and I'd lose her forever. I pick up my phone to call her.

"Mummy," I say when she replies.

"Yes?" she replied. I began crying almost immediately when I heard her voice.

"I'm sorry," I say. She sighs on the other end of the line.

"It's okay," she tells me in a soothing voice. Her voice was always soothing. In fact, one of the things I remembered about her the most was how nice her voice would sound on the phone.

"I'm happy with him, I just don't know why you believe that. I'm so happy I'd marry him even if he had no money and if he gained 20 kilos," I say, my voice breaking with the tears.

"I-"

"I'm telling you this because I want you to be there on my wedding day and I want you to be happy that I'm going to be living with him for the rest of my life. I want you to treat him like your own son. I know we haven't gotten along so well in the past but I'm a big girl now and big girls need their mothers to teach them everything. I'm so lost and confused and I need your help," I go on, interrupting.

There is silence on the next line and I'm afraid she won't reply. Then she speaks.

"Daughter, I want you to know that I'll always be here, and you can turn me away a million times, but you'll never turn me away forever. I won't leave you simple because I can't. I'm here to help, even when you don't want me to," she says, and then in her typical fashion, she goes on to tell me that's she'll be at my house at 7 in the evening tomorrow to teach me her curry recipe. I've been meaning to ask her for it but I never got the guts. I nod my head and tell her I love her.

"I love you too, pumpkin," she says, and puts down the phone. I disconnect and stand up, walking back into our bedroom. He's just finished his shower and is walking out, stark naked. He's using his towel to dry his hair and I take it from him. He examines my face.

"Have you been crying?" he asks, looking down at me. I shake my head.

"Was talking to my Mother on the phone," I say simply. He looks at me and decides not to press the matter, going to find another pair of boxers for the night. I flop down on the bed and he crawls in after me, snuggling up and pressing his nose into the crook of my neck, he kisses down my shoulder and arm.

"I love the fact that you remind me of your Mum," he says. I feel tears coming into my eyes.

"I just want to be me, not her, but I still want to be like her, I guess," I say. I put my hand on the side of his face and kiss him on the lips, looking into his warm eyes. I put my head on his chest again.

"I just want to be who I want to be," I say, drifting to sleep on him. The bed is warm and the room smells of lavender. Everything else didn't matter. He stretches to turn off the lights in our room.

"I love you, whoever you are," he says.


End file.
